House of the Rising Sun
by AshaGreyjoysSaltWife
Summary: "And what exactly are you?" "Only a simple wanderer, Mr. Baggins." Thorin/OFC. Rated M for violent and sexual content.
1. Home Invasion

Hell yeah, writing! It's gonna be great, wooo *write OC fiction*

Well, here it is! First story ever published, and it's a Thorin/OFC! because there aren't enough of those amirite guys. It's a mixture of book and movie canon, but admittedly mostly movie because A) I just rewatched An Unexpected Journey and I was blown away, and B) it has been forever and a day since I read the book. I have taken some liberties, but hopefully they work within the established canon. I'll be trying to update at least once a week.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or places in the established Hobbit canon. They are the property of the wonderful J.R.R. Tolkien. I only own my OC and those characters or places associated with her.

On we go!

* * *

Bilbo Baggins was not having a pleasant evening.

And the day had started off so well! The incident with the wizard was unsettling, of course, but he had moved on. He had no appetite for adventures; Bilbo thought he had made that quite clear to the wizard, and hadn't seen hide nor hair of him the rest of the day. Bilbo had been all set for a nice, quiet dinner at home, and then not one, not two, but four dwarves had invaded! And what were they doing with his cabinet?!

"We'll never get everyone in!" Balin grunted as he carried the cupboard out of Bilbo's dining room, Fili coming to his aid.

"Wait, wait! How many of you are there?" Bilbo yelped, his question going unheard by the dwarves in his dining room. The sound of his doorbell ringing for the fourth time that evening made his stomach drop. "Oh, no. No!" He turned on his heel, marching down the long hallway to his door. "There is nobody home!" He cried, discarding the weapons Fili had passed to him. "Go away and bother someone else! There are far too many dwarves in my dining room as it is! If this is some clothead's idea of a joke..." He laughed, realizing somewhere in the back of his mind that it was not a particularly sane sound. "Then I can only say that it is in _very_ poor taste!"

He yanked open the door to his hole - and stepped back in surprise when a veritable wave of dwarves fell in, one on top of the other. Dismayed, Bilbo could do nothing but stare uncomprehendingly at the groaning pile of dwarves until the figure of a tall, gray-cloaked man peered inside. Sparing a glance at the dwarves, he looked up, offering Bilbo a small smile of greeting.

"_Gandalf_," Bilbo sighed, exasperated. The wizard nodded; to his credit, he did look somewhat abashed. Dwarves were not easy to entertain, especially on one's first time dining with them. But the experience would do Bilbo good in the long run, Gandalf was sure of it.

At the moment, though, Bilbo couldn't see how any good could come of this at all. The new dwarves had joined the previous four in the decimation of Bilbo's pantry, ignoring his meager protests. Bilbo was standing in the middle of a torrent of dwarves, most of whom were carrying off furniture and food. "A bit excessive, isn't it?" He called, seeing a plump dwarf laden with three wheels of cheese. "Have you got a cheese knife?"

Another dwarf chuckled, and Bilbo blinked incredulously at the bizarre hat he wore. "Cheese knife? He eats it by the block!" He said as he carried Bilbo's ham off into the dining room. Deflating, Bilbo watched him go for a moment before a grey-haired dwarf pushed past him. Indignation filled Bilbo; that chair was an antique!

"Put that back!" He warned, pointing back to one of his other rooms. The dwarf shook his head.

"I can't 'ear you!" He replied, and hobbled off to set the chair at the table. After his moment, Bilbo let his arm drop limply to his side. The dwarves around him carried on with their preparations, setting the table with help from Gandalf. The wizard declined Dori's offer of tea, instead requesting a little red wine, and slipped into the hallway to count heads.

"Fili, Kili... Balin, Dwalin... Oin, Gloin... Bifur, Bofur, Bombur... Dori, Nori, Ori!" Gandalf finished, watching as Bilbo ripped a basket of tomatoes from the youngest dwarf. Unsatisfied with his count, the wizard grumbled, "We appear to be one dwarf short..."

"He is late, is all. He traveled North to a meeting of out kin. He will come..." Dwalin offered, always the first to step to his king's defense. He punctuated his statement with a long swig of ale. Somewhat cheered, Gandalf drank his red wine, though it was, in fact, very little red wine. Dwarves could be quite literal creatures...

"And she's late as well..." he sighed, glancing around to make sure no one had heard his last comment. Luckily, the dwarves were far more interested in the food than anything he had to say. Before long, the food was piled high on plates and shoved into mouths, and the conversation was flowing.

Throughout the festivities, Bilbo could do little more than stand in the hall and wring his hands, flinching at the sight of flying food. He was so preoccupied with his worries that he didn't notice the blond dwarf, Fili, had taken to walking on the table, passing out ale. With a roar of, "TANK UP!" from Kili, the dwarves toasted and drank deeply, ale soaking their beards. A chorus of belches soon began, and the table cheered and laughed when the loudest and longest came from meek Ori.

And Bilbo's rage grew. As supper wound down and the food disappeared, he found the motivation to put a stop to this mess once and for all.

"Excuse me! That is a doily, not a dishcloth!" He cried, affronted. Bilbo ripped the cloth as delicately as he could from the dwarf's thick fingers. He held it up to the light and couldn't hold back a sigh of relief when he saw that the fine cloth was undamaged.

"But it's all full of holes," commented the dwarf with the strange hat.

"It's supposed to look like that! It's crochet!" Bilbo snapped.

"Aye, and a wonderful game it is, too... If you've got the balls for it!" The dwarf teased, grinning at him. Bilbo shook his head and hid the doily in a nearby vase before pinching the bridge of his nose, which did nothing to help his headache.

"My dear Bilbo, whatever is the matter?" Gandalf asked, stooping to join his friend in the kitchen.

"Wh-What's the matter?" Bilbo sputtered, disbelieving. "I'm surrounded by dwarves! What are they doing here?!" He asked, more hushed this time after noticing a few curious stares sent his way. Gandalf chuckled, relieved that there was nothing seriously wrong with his small friend.

"Why, they're quite a merry gathering once you get used to them!" He said cheerfully, turning to watch as Nori and Bofur fought over a chain of sausages. Bilbo, still sputtering, pulled him farther from the dining room into the entrance hall.

"I don't want to get used to them!" Bilbo protested. "The state of my kitchen! There's mud trod on the carpet! They've pillaged the pantry! I'm not even going to tell you what they've done in the bathroom, they've all but destroyed the plumbing! I don't understand what they're doing in my house!" His rage had reached its breaking point, and his voice broke with the final whisper. A small voice and the shuffle of feet were all that broke the silence that followed.

"Excuse me. I'm sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?" Ori, the youngest and shyest of the company, asked. Bilbo knew that disaster was about to strike when Fili appeared, grinning mischievously. The quiet sound of rhythmic tapping came from inside the dining room.

"Here you go, Ori, give it to me!" Fili said, plucking the plate from Ori's hands and casually tossing it down the hall. Bilbo almost shrieked in horror, but cut himself off when Kili caught it and tossed the plate to Bifur in the kitchen, who caught it in turn. Fili neatly caught a storm of flying plates before tossing them to his brother. Bilbo's protests went unheard as he ducked his flying dishes. The dwarves had struck up a steady rhythm, fists and boots pounding and cutlery scraping together.

"E-Excuse me, can you not do that? You'll blunt them!"

"Oh, do you hear that lads?" Bofur taunted. "He says we'll blunt the knives!"

"_Blunt the knives, bend the forks_!" Kili crowed.

"_Smash the bottles and burn the corks!"_ Fili picked up the tune even as he caught and passed two plates.

"_Chip the glasses and crack the plates, that's what Bilbo Baggins hates_!" the rest of the dwarves joined the song.

"_Cut the cloth, tread on the fat! Leave the bones on the bedroom mat! Pour the milk on the pantry floor, splash the wine on every door!"_ the dwarves sang. Dishes flew to-and-fro, somehow ending up in neat stacks that traveled into the kitchen. Bilbo watched open-mouthed in horrified astonishment, waiting for a crash and shatter that never came.

"_Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl! Pound them up with a thumping pole! And when you're finished, if they are whole... Send them down the hall to roll_!" The sound of instruments drew Bilbo out of his stupor and he peered into the dining room to see the dwarf with the hat playing a small clarinet. The tattooed dwarf, Dwalin, had produced a lute, and the grey-haired dwarf from earlier appeared to be puffing on a teapot.

The song came to a thundering conclusion with a final chorus of, "_That's what Bilbo Baggins hates_!" Flushed with embarrassment, Bilbo stared at the pile of cleaned and stacked dishes at the center. The laughter of the company (and Bilbo swore he heard a shout of "Look at his face!") did nothing to assuage his embarrassment. However, all sound in the room seemed to stop when three knocks resounded.

Much to Bilbo's confusion, the dwarves had sobered instantly, and even Gandalf looked uncommonly serious. "He's here," the wizard said gravely. As one, the dwarves filed out into the hall, Bilbo drifting behind, uncertain. The sudden change in atmosphere had him worried; but as he was the master of the house, it was his duty to welcome the newest arrival. So, swallowing a lump in his throat, he stepped forward and pulled open the door.

Were it anyone else at the door, Bilbo might have felt more irritation at yet another uninvited dwarf at his door. But this dwarf was different; even disregarding the way all movement from the company stilled with his arrival, the dwarf had a stately air to him.

"Gandalf," he greeted the wizard. "I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way twice..." This drew some muffled snickering from the rest of the party. "I would not have found it if not for the mark on the door," he finished, stepping inside and undoing the clasp of his cloak. Bilbo straightened, curiosity piqued by the odd statement.

"Mark? There is no mark on the door; it was painted a week ago!"

"There is a mark, Bilbo. I put it there myself!" Gandalf interrupted, pretending not to notice the glare he received. Casting a glance out the door for some trace of his surprise guest, he found none, and turned back to the assembly. "Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield." The hobbit turned to look at the aforementioned dwarf, who did not look too impressed.

"So, this is the hobbit..." Thorin murmured, studying the small figure. Bilbo swallowed and tried not to fidget under his gaze. Trying to avoid the rather intimidating dwarf's eyes, he looked over his shoulder instead. There was a certain resemblance between the new arrival and the twin dwarves; not close enough to be father and sons, but definitely related.

"Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?" The dwarf asked, circling him.

"Pardon me?" Bilbo squeaked.

"Axe or sword? What's your weapon of choice?" Thorin asked impatiently. Bilbo blinked, confused. Hobbits were peaceful folk, and he could hardly remember ever _seeing_ a weapon, much less using one.

"Well, I do have some skill at conkers if you must know... but I fail to see how that's relevant," he murmured.

"Thought as much," Thorin remarked stonily. "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar." The gathering of dwarves chuckled quietly, but Bilbo couldn't help but feel a bit hurt by the comment. Soon enough, the dwarves had situated themselves at his dining room table once again.

"What news from the meeting at Ered Luin?" Balin began. Bilbo listened from his spot behind Gandalf as Thorin detailed the support from the Iron Hills. The dwarves looked cheerful at the news until Dwalin thought to ask about their cousins in Dain.

"They will not come..." Thorin said. Bilbo thought he detected a note of disappointment in his voice, and there was a collective wave of distress throughout the company. Gandalf sat back and puffed on his pipe contemplatively, but took no part in the discussion. "They say this quest is ours and ours alone."

"You're going on a quest?" Bilbo cut in. As a response, Gandalf asked him for a bit more light and as Bilbo slunk away, Gandalf retrieved a faded parchment from the folds of his robe and laid it on the table. Bilbo stepped forward, candle in hand, and peered down at what he now saw was a map. "The Lonely Mountain..."

"Aye! Oin has read the portents and the portents say it is time!" Gloin added, banging his fist on the table for emphasis.

"Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold..." Oin began elaborating on the meaning of ravens, most of which meant nothing to Bilbo. He was turning back to his (empty) pantry to sulk when he caught the word "beast."

"Well, what beast?"

Gandalf turned to look at Bilbo, taking a pull from his pipe. "Er, that would be a reference to Smaug the terrible!" Bofur called from his spot beside Thorin. "Chiefest and greatest calamity of our age! Airborne fire-breather... teeth like razors... claws like meat hooks... extremely fond of precious metals!"

"Yes, I know what a dragon is, thank you!" Bilbo snapped, ignoring the sudden stab of fear that came with Bofur's words.

"I'm not afraid!" Ori cried, standing from his place beside his brothers. "I'll give him a taste of dwarvish iron right up his jacksie!" This proclamation gained a mixed reaction from the company, caught between hilarity and dissent. Fili and Kili in particular found it funny that the youngest dwarf in the company would make such a bold statement. And he was always so quiet and unassuming, too!

With a whispered reprimand from his brothers, Ori took his seat again and the meeting went on. Balin interjected with, "The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us! But we number just thirteen, not thirteen of the best nor brightest..." This comment drew some ire from the dwarves. Gandalf, in the fashion typical of all mysterious old wizards, just smiled and puffed on his pipe without a word.

Bilbo was a bit surprised when the first to speak again was Fili, seeing as he and his brother seemed much younger than the rest of the company. Kili piped up next, pointing to Gandalf as someone who must have slain hundreds of dragons, which threw the dwarves into a frenzy. Gandalf choked on his pipe smoke and muttered something inaudible when Dori demanded a number.

Outside, the lightning flashed and rain came down in sheets, but the cacophony inside drowned out the raging storm. Bilbo wasn't quite sure what had set them off in the first place, but the bickering came to a halt when Thorin grew tired of the argument and roared "ENOUGH!"

In the quiet that followed, all eyes were on their king, who appeared ready to speak. But it was not Thorin who broke the silence.

Once again, the doorbell rang.


	2. An Unexpected Visitor

So I honestly meant to get this posted a lot earlier this week, but then school happened. Sorry! On the bright side, chapter three is already planned out and week after next is spring break, so I hope to get a lot done.

I'd like to say thank you to for the reviews, favorites, and follows - they mean a lot to me, and made a pretty hectic week a lot better. SnowLeopardSwan251 - I'm glad that you thought the first chapter was interesting. I'm hoping to have a more regular posting schedule in place soon. lostfeather1 - Thank you so much! I hope she lives up to your expectations. Fire Black Dragon - Thank you! Teleryn - I had a lot of fun trying to get into Bilbo's mind for last chapter. I felt like he would feel RIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION at... dwarves moving his furniture and eating his food ;)

Disclaimer: The only characters I own are Amrûn and the briefly-mentioned Tarun. All canonical characters are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien, Peter Jackson, New Line Cinema, Warner Bros. Studios, and many others who are much richer than I am.

Edit: I went back over this chapter and noticed a few errors in Amrun's description, which have since ben cleared up. Unfortunately, when I tried to replace this the first time I messed up and erased the author's notes at the beginning and end of this chapter, so hopefully that doesn't happen again. Next update coming soon, and since I'm on break (thank god) I'll probably be able to get up both three and four. Five too, if I don't procrastinate myself to death. Thanks for reading!

Edit Take Two: Guess who sucks at continuity? Meeeee.  
Another edit made to Amrûn's description, even though it's literally one word. Chapter four is on the way, meant to post it Sunday but I had Easter with the family. Speaking of which, Happy (belated) Easter!

* * *

There was an unspoken question in everyone's mind as heads turned, each dwarf taking count. Thirteen dwarves, one hobbit, and one wizard were piled into the dining room. So who was at the door?

"Perhaps it's one of my neighbors? You _were _being awfully loud..." Bilbo offered nervously. Gandalf blew out a smoke ring and swept into the hall, followed closely by Thorin, the rest of the company drifting behind curiously.

"On the contrary, my good friend! It would seem that Amrûn has finally arrived!"

Punctuating his statement, there was a loud _slam_ on the door, causing a collective jump throughout most of the company. They _had_ been in the middle of discussing Smaug the Terrible, after all.

"Who is this Amrûn you speak of, Gandalf?" Thorin demanded, keeping his voice low and composed. This had not been part of his plans. Gandalf's first find was enough of a disappointment; he didn't need another tonight.

"Why, I consider Amrûn one of my closest friends! Their skills will prove useful to you on this journey, I believe," Gandalf said, beckoning Bilbo forward. Amrûn always had been rather impatient, and he supposed Bilbo would be quite unhappy if his door was broken down.

Startled by yet another unexpected intrusion, Bilbo hesitated before stepping forward. He ran a hand through his hair and straightened his suspenders nervously, and finally swung the door open to meet the newest visitor.

He was almost frightened enough to slam the door shut again. Clad in a violently red cloak, the visitor wore a black mask that covered their face and left only their eyes visible in the light that fell across her from the open doorway. They were more amber than brown, a thoroughly unnerving shade, and Bilbo felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as the figure inspected him silently.

"Master Bilbo Baggins of Bag End, I hope?" they finally spoke, and Bilbo blinked, hearing an outburst of surprised whispers from the gathering of dwarves. The voice that issued forth was rough and strangely accented, but unmistakably female.

"I-Yes, I am," he stuttered. The woman surveyed him once more, than nodded, and he was taken aback at the sudden warmth in her eyes.

"Well, that's certainly a relief! I was beginning to think I might have ended up in the wrong village entirely!" she said. She bowed deeply, one hand pressed to her heart, before straightening and meeting his eyes once again. "Amrûn, at your service! May I come in?"

"Oh, yes! Of course! You must be soaked!" He babbled, moving aside to let her in. Amrûn stepped inside, pausing at the threshold when she felt the weight of fourteen pairs of eyes. She inclined her head curtly and slipped the red hood off her head, revealing black hair cropped to her shoulders. The dwarves present exchanged glances; women of any race were known to wear their hair long.

"Late again, I see," Gandalf spoke lightly, drawing her attention.

"Gandalf," she breathed, pulling down the mask on her face. Bilbo couldn't restrain a gasp of shock as she rushed to embrace the wizard, and heard it echoed by the gathering of dwarves.

"Of course I'm late; you gave me a day's notice to get here! Poor Tarun's absolutely exhausted!" She scolded, but the note of anger in her voice faded as she threw her arms around the wizard (though she barely came up to his chest.) Bilbo was glad that her attention was focused on Gandalf; he couldn't seem to stop staring at her.

There was something striking to Amrûn, if not quite beautiful. Her skin was dark, darker than even a Harfoot, and there were freckles scattered over the bridge of her nose and her high cheekbones. Her lips were full, and her eyes, lined with smudged black makeup, were clear and kind (if oddly-colored.) There was a small golden ring in her nose, and a silvery snake coiled around her right ear. Even the scar through her eyebrow and the tell-tale bump of a broken nose were somewhat appealing, but oh, that _scar_...

The left side of her face was a mass of mottled, pitted scar tissue from temple to chin, curving over her jaw before disappearing into the carefully knotted scarf around her throat. The surrounding skin was pink and raw-looking, and her eye, though somehow functional, was pulled into a squint. Bilbo couldn't tell whether she even had an ear on the injured side, and light gleamed weakly off muscle and bone where the flesh of her cheek had been destroyed completely. The sight made his gorge rise, and he swallowed the sudden bitter acid in his throat, tearing his eyes away from the ruined skin in favor of staring at the floor.

"It has been too long, my friend," Gandalf was saying, holding her at arm's length so he could ruffle her short hair. She pushed him away gently, rolling her eyes at her friend's antics before turning her attention back to Bilbo, who couldn't seem to meet her eyes.

"You have a lovely home, Mr. Baggins," she murmured, undoing the clasp on her thick cloak. She started when the weight was removed from her shoulders and turned on her heel to meet two grinning dwarves.

"Fili-" said the blond.

"-And Kili!" said the brunette, squeezing the water out of her saturated cloak (much to Bilbo's distress.)

"At your service!" they chorused, bowing together. Kili couldn't help but look at the scar she bore, excited. He felt sure there would be a long tale behind it, and he had always enjoyed stories of battle. And a good story from a pretty girl was even better!

He swallowed, feeling uncommonly bashful when she returned his grin with a warm smile. "Thank you, Kili. It's a pleasure to meet you both," she replied, bowing herself. The flush on Kili's cheeks did not go unnoticed by Thorin, and his frown deepened when he turned his attention back to the woman.

Unperturbed by the glower she was receiving, Amrûn straightened out her red tunic and adjusted the sword at her hip. This, too, made the dwarves whisper amongst themselves. It wasn't uncommon for dwarf women to wear breeches and carry weaponry, but this was no dwarf. The short sleeved tunic revealed one arm covered in intricate tattoos, while the other bore the same disfiguration as her face and the tips of two fingers on her left hand were missing entirely.

"Amrûn!" Gandalf called, beckoning her forward. She looked up and met the icy eyes of the dwarf beside him, and steeled herself for what she knew would be an uncomfortable meeting. Gandalf put a hand on her shoulder, skillfully ignoring the dark look Thorin gave him. "I would like you to meet the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield."

"It's an honor to meet you, Master Oakenshield," she said, bowing deeply to the regal dwarf.

"I wish I could say the same," he grunted, unimpressed. "You said nothing of a fifteenth member, Gandalf."

"Amrûn is here on my request alone, and will assist me through the journey," Gandalf replied, tranquil as a forest. "And I assure you that she will not be a hindrance on your quest. She is well-acquainted with travel, and has friends throughout Middle-Earth who could be persuaded to lend us aid on the journey."

Thorin fell silent. Grudgingly, he shot a glance at Amrûn, who was listening passively. She had a soft, unassuming look, but there was a self-assured air to her that reminded him of Dís, and that sword looked as if it had been used often. Nevertheless, he was leery of her; he wasn't about to trust her just on Gandalf's word, and he didn't care for those odd eyes. The only ones who were supposed to know about the quest to Erebor were twelve of his most trusted friends and family, Gandalf, and the hobbit.

"I will discuss this with you later, wizard," he finally growled, striding back into the dining room with the rest of his company trailing behind him.

Exchanging glances, Gandalf and Amrûn followed the dwarves into the dining room, Amrûn leaning against the entryway across from Bilbo. "Do you need anything to eat, miss?" The hobbit thought to ask. "I don't know if I can find anything..."

"That won't be necessary, but thank you for the offer," Amrûn responded. The hobbit gave her a shy smile, the first she'd seen from him since arriving, and she responded with one of her own.

"Lady Amrûn!" A familiar voice drew her attention to the back of the room. "We have room for you here," Fili called, patting the bench where he and his brother sat, both looking hopeful. Amrûn looked to Gandalf, who nodded, and padded over to the offered seat and managing to squeeze herself into the space beside Kili, who beamed at her.

"Amrûn, before I forget let me introduce you to the rest of the Company," Gandalf interrupted. As Amrûn watched attentively, he gestured to each dwarf. "You've met Fili, Kili, and Thorin, so allow me to introduce the rest of this fine Company: Balin, Dwalin, Oin, Gloin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Dori, Nori, and Ori!"

Amrûn's brow furrowed as she contemplated the Company, committing names and faces to memory. Thirteen in all, along with Bilbo and Gandalf. "Think you can get us all in one try, lass?" One dwarf called from his place next to Thorin. He was Bofur, she remembered; that hat was far too distinctive to forget.

Tilting her head, Amrûn's lips twitched. "Is that a challenge, Master Bofur?" she asked.

"Good one, lass! Now that's twelve more to go!" Bofur said, smiling winsomely at her. She couldn't help but grin back, and cast one last glance around the table before beginning, pointing at each dwarf as she went.

"Fili and Kili, Thorin, Balin, Dwalin, Oin, Gloin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Dori, Nori, Ori," she counted off, absentmindedly adjusting her scarf. "That's thirteen of you, isn't it?"

Kili whooped and patted her on the back, almost pitching her off the bench. Bofur winked solemnly and tipped his hat, and Gandalf puffed proudly at his pipe.

"Very well done, yes. Now, if we could get back to the issue at hand…" Balin began gravely, looking to Thorin to continue. And so he did.

"Indeed… If we have read these signs, do you not think others would have read them too? Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon, Smaug, has not been seen for sixty years. Eyes look East to the mountains, assessing, wondering, and weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back and let others claim what it rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor!" Thorin had risen to his feet during his speech. The end of his words heralded raucous cheering from the assembled dwarves, banging on the table and pouring liberal amounts of ale.

Amrûn, on the other hand, was frowning. She couldn't deny that it was an impressive speech, and there had been a shiver up her spine when those blue eyes met hers. She had thought Thorin cold before, but there was a fiery anger beneath the surface. She had heard tales of the sack of Erebor many times during her stays in Laketown and the Greenwood, and had leapt at the chance to join when Gandalf had sent her the message. Now, surrounded by the Company, she wasn't so sure. Some of them looked so _young_…

She was brought out of her stupor when a foaming mug of ale was pushed towards her by Kili. Managing a slight smile, Amrûn took the drink and toasted with the dwarves before drinking deep. The ale was of good quality, unsurprising for a hobbit, and made a good job of calming her nerves.

"You forget that the front gate is sealed! There is no way into the mountain!" Balin called over the festivities. Thorin dropped back to his seat, a look of weariness coming over him that made Amrûn feel a sudden pang of sympathy.

"That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true!" Gandalf boomed. With a quick flourish, he produced a tarnish silver key from what seemed like midair, much to the awe of the Company. Amrûn, unfazed, rummaged in her pack. She had known the wizard for a long time now; such tricks were child's play compared to some of the miracles she had witnessed him perform. Her fingers brushed against her pipe, buried beneath a layer of miscellanea. Drawing it out of her pack, she fiddled with it irritably, not catching the surprised looks from Fili and Kili. She was aching for a smoke after her journey, but her father had always taught her that it was rude to smoke at the table.

"How came you by this?" Thorin asked, watching the key reverently as Gandalf twisted it in his thin fingers.

"It was given to me by your father, by Thrain, for safekeeping," Gandalf explained solemnly. "It belongs to you now." With no small degree of delicacy, the wizard passed the ancient key to the rightful King Under the Mountain. There was a sense of rightness as the key was returned to Thorin's grasp, as if some part of the universe, displaced, had been returned to the correct alignment.

Fili leaned forward, eagerly joining the conversation with, "If there's a key, there must be a door!" Amrûn had to bite back a laugh, her amusement only growing at the bemused look on Kili's face.

Gesturing to the faded map which lay on the table, Gandalf said, "These runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls…"

Kili started, cuffing his brother on the shoulder. "There's another way in!" He exclaimed, beaming around the table.

Amrûn narrowly managed to disguise her snort with a theatrical coughing fit and excused herself, escaping into the hallway. She turned into the kitchen and scoured the shelves, still shaking with laughter. She'd always been quick to like people, and Fili and Kili were no exception; but Kili had just looked so _proud_ of himself that she couldn't restrain her amusement.

Watching her go, Gandalf smiled fondly at the young woman. It had been a long time since he'd heard her laugh so genuinely. "Well, if we can find it, but dwarf doors are invisible when closed! The answer lies somewhere hidden in this map, and I do not have the skill to find it. But there are others in Middle Earth who can…" He began. Thorin grimaced, knowing exactly who he spoke of, but Gandalf pressed on. "The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage. But, if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done."

"That's why we need a burglar!" Little Ori piped.

Nibbling on his pipe, Bilbo murmured, "A good one, too. An expert, I'd imagine!"

"And are you?" Gloin asked.

"Am I what?"

"He said he's an expert, hey-hey!" Oin called out, laughing.

"Me? No, no, no, no, no! I'm not a burglar; I've never stolen a thing in my life!" Bilbo exclaimed, looking desperately to Gandalf.

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Mr. Baggins. He's hardly burglar material," Balin cut in smoothly, his brother chiming in with, "Aye, the wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves. " The gathered dwarves began to bicker, Bilbo nodding frantically in agreement with Balin and Dwalin.

Amrûn, having moved to the pantry, heard little of this. But the roar of, "ENOUGH!If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is!" made her jump, and the familiar tingle of magic down her spine made her exit the pantry, clutching a (slightly bruised) apple. The hobbit had disappeared from his spot in the doorway, and there was a shadow creeping into the hall. She shivered and flicked a few sparks at the approaching darkness; she had never cared for the way Gandalf's magic burned cold with his anger. Luckily, it receded quickly and Gandalf continued in a more ordinary tone.

"Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage. You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Mr. Baggins. There's a lot more to him than appearances suggest, and he's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know… Including _himself_."

Listening, Amrûn allowed herself a small smile. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't had her own doubts about the hobbit. He seemed nice enough (and wasn't that the most generic descriptor, _nice_) but not the adventuring type; then again, she supposed the same could have been said of her all those long years ago. And hadn't it been a wizard who had pulled her out of that easy, content, _dull_ life?

"You must trust me on this," Gandalf said.

"I asked you to find a fourteenth member, yes. And you have brought a fifteenth as well," Thorin griped. Amrûn rolled her eyes, biting a chunk out her apple.

"I promise you, she will be an invaluable ally on this quest! If you are willing to give Mr. Baggins the benefit of the doubt, then I must ask you to extend the same courtesy to Amran," Gandalf countered. There was a silence, broke finally by a low, put-upon sigh.

"Very well. We'll do this your way."

"No, no, please," Bilbo protested weakly.

"Give him the contract. Balin, draw one up for the girl as well."

"I don't mind sharing, if that's alright with Mr. Baggins," Amrûn said, padding over to the dining room and smiling at Bilbo, who returned it weakly.

"Alright, we're off!" Bofur whooped.

"It's just the usual summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral expenses, so forth," Balin explained.

"Funeral arrangements?" Bilbo repeated, looking ill. He stepped out into the hallway and unfurled the contract, letting out a small moan when it brushed the floor. Amrûn, peering over his head, just sighed and ate her apple. The whispered conversation between Gandalf and Thorin caught her attention, but she focused on the contract Bilbo was reading aloud.

"Terms: Cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding one-fourteenth of total profit, if any. Seems fair," he said, looking up at the woman behind him who offered a noncommittal shrug. "Eh, present company shall not be liable for any injuries inflicted by or sustained thereof including but not limited to lacerations… evisceration… _incineration_?!"

"Oh, aye!" Bofur called cheerfully. "He'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye. "

"You alright, laddie?" Balin asked, looking concerned. The hobbit was looking a bit peaky.

"Uh, yeah! Just feel a bit faint," Bilbo squeaked, bending over and trying to regain his breathing. Amrûn placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, and he looked up at her gratefully. His hands were clenching the contract so tightly that she feared he might tear it.

"Think furnace with wings," Bofur continued, ignoring the warning glance Amrûn sent him. "Flash of light, searing pain, then poof! Nothing left but a pile of ash." Bilbo swayed on his feet, breath coming in quick, harsh gasps.

"He's just trying to scare you, Mr. Baggins," Amrûn said coolly.

"R-Really?" Bilbo stuttered, blushing a little when his voice cracked.

"Yes!" she said. Bilbo felt slightly reassured, but the churning in his stomach soon returned when she went on. "Dragon fire's hot enough to burn without even touching you. If you were directly hit, you wouldn't have time to feel a thing." Pausing, she took a bite of her apple. "As far as dying goes, it's fairly pleasant. Surviving is what's painful."

Bilbo relaxed at her words, his breathing evening out. He straightened to his full height (not particularly impressive, especially with Amrûn next to him) and regarded the company calmly.

"Nope!" was all he managed to say before his knees went out from under him. Amrûn managed to slip an arm underneath his shoulders and support his weight, but it did little good; the hobbit was out long before he hit the ground.

"Very helpful, Bofur. And well done, Amrûn!" Gandalf snapped. Amrûn sighed and swept off into the living room with the hobbit in her arms, uncomfortably aware of the blue eyes that tracked her as she went.

* * *

Here she is, t̶h̶e̶ ̶b̶i̶g̶g̶e̶s̶t̶ ̶d̶o̶u̶c̶h̶e̶ ̶i̶n̶ ̶M̶i̶d̶d̶l̶e̶-̶E̶a̶r̶t̶h̶!̶̶

Okay, ignore that last part. Amrûn has finally arrived, and I hope she makes a good impression. She's certainly made an impression on Thorin, but I'm not sure if it's a good one.

I have to say, I'm not really pleased with the description of her scar. I was picturing awful, charred Sandor Clegane-esque burns, and I don't think I captured that well.

also wow guys I wonder where she got those scars. such a mystery isn't it. If you have a guess, why not leave a review?


	3. Smoke and Memories

This chapter took so long to get through and still turned out really bad /lays down

Seriously, the lesson I have learned is never to give me free time because I will inevitably waste it. I meant to get this chapter up on Sunday, and that of course did not happen. My sincerest apologies.

I also don't think my writing was very good this chapter, but at the moment I'm too tired to do anything. Hopefully at a later date I'll get the chance to go through and fix some things, because close to the end I did start rushing a bit.

So this chapter is mostly just Amrûn interacting with a few of the dwarves, mostly Fili, Kili, and Ori. Speaking of which, Ori (and Bifur) will probably feature quite a bit in this fic. Ori is just adorable, and a bit of time on Tumblr has really made me appreciate Bifur more. Also, have some cryptic statements about Amrûn's ~~~true nature~~~, courtesy of Gandalf.

Good news is, the fourth chapter is already started. There won't be much action yet, I'm afraid, but at least the journey will officially begin. Until next time!

* * *

Amrûn deposited the unconscious hobbit in his armchair, Gandalf joining her as she knelt at Bilbo's side. The dwarves gathered in the doorway, expressions concerned or annoyed in equal measure. "Will he be alright, Gandalf?" Bofur called, looking worried. Amrûn gripped Bilbo's wrist, the pulse quick and strong beneath her fingers, then nodded to Gandalf.

"Just nerves, nothing serious," Gandalf replied, gaining a few relieved sighs from the dwarves. "A warm drink might calm his nerves, I believe. Dori, is there any more of that chamomile left?"

As the grey-haired dwarf bustled away to the kitchen, Gandalf slipped a vial from the folds of his robe and passed it to Amrûn. She accepted it, dark brows furrowed. "Isn't this a little strong for a simple fainting spell?" she murmured, the golden liquid within sloshing as she surveyed the familiar bottle.

"A whiff won't hurt him, pigeon," Gandalf said, unconcerned by the glare he received at the hated pet name. Amrûn sighed and uncapped the bottle, her stomach twisting unpleasantly at the strong smell. Nose wrinkled, she held the bottle under Bilbo's nose, jerking it away when he awoke, coughing.

"Yes, coming! I-oh," he started, cutting himself off when he saw Gandalf and Amrûn leaning over him. "So you are here, then."

"Sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Baggins," Amrun said. She was unable to restrain a mischievous grin when the hobbit flushed to the tips of his ears and started stuttering apologies.

"Amrûn, I think Bilbo has had enough excitement tonight, don't you? Thank you, Dori," Gandalf cut in, taking a cup of tea from the tray Dori carried and giving it to Bilbo, who accepted it gratefully. Amrûn had picked up the contract and was reading it over at Bilbo's desk when a second mug was offered to her. Blinking in surprise, she accepted the fragrant tea from Dori.

"It's a bad night to be traveling, Lady Amrûn. Wouldn't want you catching cold before the journey, would we?" he said, smiling. Gandalf had to chuckle at the baffled expression on Amrûn's face; it was a rare sight to see his friend caught off guard.

Regaining her wits, Amrûn thanked Dori for the tea and turned her attention back to the contract. She found pen and ink resting on Bilbo's desk and, with a resigned sigh, scribbled her signature just below where Bilbo's would go.

"Well, that was a lovely surprise! And here I was expecting to be turned away as soon as I stepped in the door," she said, depositing the contract on the small footstool before Bilbo. "How are you feeling, Mr. Baggins?"

Startled, Bilbo's gaze shifted between Amrûn and the contract before answering, "Fine, fine. I'll be alright, just let me sit quietly for a moment."

"You've been sitting quietly for far too long!" Gandalf scolded. "Tell me, when did doilies and your mother's dishes become so important to you?"

Amrûn took her leave, abandoning Bilbo to his lecture (and seven hells, Gandalf could lecture like no one else.) Ducking into the hallway, she met Thorin's gaze. He and Balin had been engaged in quiet discussion when she had slipped out of the study, and at Thorin's silence the white-haired dwarf turned to look at her. "Made a decision yet, lassie?" Balin asked.

Amrûn blinked, looking from Thorin to Balin. "Everything seemed to be in order, Master Balin. I left the contract with Mr. Baggins, but I don't know what he plans to do yet," she said, half-listening to the conversation in the study. Why was Gandalf talking about _golf_, of all things?"

"You're not obligated to come. It will be a dangerous journey, you know. Something could happen to you…" Balin trailed off.

"We will see, Master Balin. If you would excuse me," she responded calmly, bowing to them. Turning on her heel, she headed into the parlor where the dwarves had gathered, conversing and drinking with abandon. A few heads turned as she came in, but Fili and Kili were nowhere to be found. She situated herself at one of the bookshelves around the room. For someone so intent on staying home, Bilbo did have a lot of works on the people of Middle-Earth- especially elves. Humming, she sipped at her tea, the warmth soothing her damaged throat and spreading to her fingertips.

"Did you sign it?"

Amrûn narrowly avoided spitting tea all over Bilbo's books, whipping around to glare balefully at the brothers. They were grinning, and her cheeks reddened at the sound of muffled chuckles from the rest of the gathering.

"Don't-" she started to say, but her words were lost to a heavy coughing fit which bent her double, shoulders shaking with the force of her heaving. The brothers shared a concerned glance and Fili reached out to touch her shoulder. His hand had just brushed her when her hacking subsided and she straightened, pulling a hand away from her mouth.

"You alright, m- is that blood?" Kili's voice rose in alarm as Amrûn inspected her hand, frowning a little at the red stain on her fingers and palm.

Unconcerned, she shrugged and wiped the blood on her tunic. "It happens sometimes. Not a problem," she said, much to Kili and Fili's disbelief. "And in answer, to your question, I did. It'll be a pleasure traveling with you."

This announcement excited Kili enough to forget his worry, but Fili's eyes lingered on the dark stain on her tunic. "Well, then I suppose you ought to get better acquainted with the rest of the Company!" Kili said. There was a note of mischief in his tone that made Amrûn regard him suspiciously, folding her arms over her chest.

"I think that would be wise, yes."

Kili beamed. "Excellent! Why don't we start right now?"

In a blink, he had darted past Amrûn. She raised an eyebrow when a startled squeak came from behind her, turning to see that Kili had caught a baby-faced dwarf by the arm and was pulling him over. The dwarf turned an alarming shade of red when she looked at him, staring at the ground and fidgeting with the hem of his cardigan.

"Lady Amrûn, this is Ori. Ori, I don't think you need an introduction-"

"-considering you've been staring at her since she walked in the room!"

Ori looked as though he wanted to sink into the floor beneath Amrûn's gaze. She studied him silently, lips twitching at the blue ribbons threaded in his braids. The mark of a worried mother - or, she thought with a glance at Dori, an older brother. "I'm t-terribly sorry, Miss Amrûn," Ori stammered, drawing her attention. The poor dwarf was almost trembling, shifting nervously from foot to foot. Amrûn felt a sharp pang of nostalgia deep in her chest. "I was just trying to get a look at your tattoos, honest."

He visibly relaxed when Amrûn smiled at him, though the flush on his cheeks didn't quite fade away. "It's perfectly alright, Master Ori. But I think it might be a good idea to move somewhere with a bit more light, don't you?" Amrûn asked.

Emboldened, Ori nodded and hurried off; stopping to alert Dori (who was beginning to look worried.) Amrun smiled and turned back to Fili and Kili, both of whom were grinning. "Something amusing, boys?"

"No, not at all! Just very proud," Fili said cheerfully.

"Our little Ori's finally growing up!" Kili sang, pretending to sniffle and wipe away a tear of pride. Amrûn giggled and took a seat at one of the small tables scattered around the parlor, the brothers settling around her to for Ori. "You know, I think this might be one of the first times Ori's talked to a girl, Fili!"

"You might be right, actually. Definitely the first time he's met a human woman," Fili said, nodding wisely.

"I've heard that there are few dwarf women. Something like only one third of the population, isn't it?" Amrûn asked.

"Aye, and they rarely travel. Our mother actually wanted to come, but since Thorin, Fili and I are gone she stayed behind to rule in his absence," Kili said.

Amrûn nodded thoughtfully. Now that she thought about it, she couldn't recall meeting a single female dwarf during her time in Dain. Or perhaps she had – it wouldn't be the first time she'd suffered gender confusion between races (Lindir still sulked about her mistake sometimes.)

"Um…" A soft sound drew Amrûn's attention and she turned to see Ori, clutching a leather-bound book like a shield. Smiling, she beckoned him over, playfully nudging Kili in the side to make room for the young artist.

"Mind if I smoke?" she asked, slipping her pouch and pipe from her bag. Ori looked a bit surprised, but nodded all the same, sketching a quick outline of her arm.

"You smoke?" Fili asked, surprised.

"I smoke too much, probably," she said with a grin. Reaching into her pouch, she pinched a small ball of pipeweed between two fingers and patted it into the bowl. A press of her finger lit the pipeweed, and she inhaled deeply, watching Ori work to copy the pattern of her tattoos in his sketchbook.

"This is a lovely design, Miss Amrûn," he said shyly, not meeting her eyes.

"Just call me Amrûn, please," she replied, exhaling a puff of smoke that seemed to glow faintly. "And many thanks. You're quite talented, it seems."

Ori blushed and Fili clapped him on the shoulder. "Always has been. Even when he was younger, he was always drawing – if he wasn't buried in a book! Right, Kili… Kili?"

Fili's alarmed tone made Amrûn look up, and what she saw made her bite back a laugh. Kili's jaw was slack, and he had gone cross-eyed. Leaning over as much as she could without moving her arm, she snapped her fingers in front of his face and he started awake. Amrûn said, "Probably just caught a bit of the smoke. You alright, Kili?"

Coughing a bit, Kili nodded. "Fine, yeah. What is that stuff?"

Amrûn grinned, a bit smug. "Rhunish pipeweed! Finest in Middle-Earth, and very strong if you're not used to it."

"So you are from the East?" Ori piped suddenly, laying down his pen. The stares he received from around the table had him fumbling to explain. "W-Well, you don't really look like you're from around her and Nori said that you had the accent and he's traveled more than me or Dori and-"

Amrûn said something low and guttural in an unfamiliar language and Ori froze, looking panicky. The woman's expression softened into a warm smile, and she said, "You've got to breathe sometimes, Ori."

Relieved, Ori nodded. Amrûn continued, "I was born in the East, yes. But I haven't returned home in many years. I'm impressed that your brother was able to pick up on my accent."

"How far East are you from?" Fili asked.  
"Why haven't you returned home?" Kili asked simultaneously.

Amrûn took a puff of her pipe, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped. Her sudden melancholy was startlingly familiar; Kili had seen the same air in his mother and Balin when they smoke of Erebor, and he felt a pang of sympathy with the Easterling. "I was born in the Haza village, on the Eastern shore of the Sea of Rhun. As for why I have stayed away…" She paused, releasing a smoke ring into the dim light. "…That is a long story, and not a particularly pleasant one, I'm afraid."

There was something strange about the way she looked in that moment. Earlier she had seemed young and carefree, the scar she bore nothing but an interesting story. Now, there was an aged, grieving look to her, and her face seemed dominated by that raw red burn.

There was a long, painful stretch of silence at the table, the only sound the scratch of Ori's pen and the periodic inhale and exhale of pipeweed. The quiet was finally broken when Gandalf appeared at the threshold of the parlor, bending to peer inside.

"Amrûn, dear, would you join me for a moment?" Gandalf beckoned, straightening up and disappearing down the hall. Amrûn snorted quietly, drawing amused glances from Fili and Kili.

"Probably wants to 'borrow' some of my pipeweed, if I know him," she said. "Sorry to interrupt, Ori."

With only a cursory nod of farewell to the little group, she departed, finding Gandalf in Bilbo's office. Seating herself on the floor, she spied the contract where she had placed it earlier. "He didn't sign, did he?" she asked. Gandalf nodded, releasing a smoke ring into the office.

"Not yet, at least."

"You really think he's the right person for the job?"

Gandalf looked at her, an amused twinkle in his blue eyes. "I know he is, my friend. Just as I knew you were the right person for your own duty."

Amrûn grunted, irritably blowing out a cloud of smoke. "That is another issue I've been worried about. If I travel with this Company, sooner or later they're going to figure out that I'm not quite as human as I claim to be."

"You've hidden yourself well enough until now," Gandalf pointed out.

"Because I don't make a habit of staying long enough for people to start suspecting anything," Amrûn retorted. She sighed, leaning against the footstool and staring at the ceiling. "I don't enjoy lying to people, Gandalf."

The wizard leaned over and placed a hand on her shoulder, giving the young woman a comforting squeeze. "I don't see why you're so worried about it in the first place, besides. To have both a wizard and a _Valandur_ on the same quest… Most would consider that a blessing!" He chuckled. "Even if one of them is just an old man."

Amrûn laughed, choking a little on her pipeweed. "Oh, of course! You're just so pitiful, aren't you?" She wheezed, smacking Gandalf on the knee with her pipe. The two enjoyed a companionable silence, the scent of pipeweed thick in the air, when a thought occurred to Amrûn. A startled laugh escaped her, and she dissolved into giggles, Gandalf watching fondly. When she had calmed somewhat, she managed to look him in the eye, a smile pulling at her lips. "At least their reactions will be amusing when they learn how old I truly am!"

This brought on a brief burst of hilarity, Amrûn laughing so hard that she had to support herself on the footstool, shoulder shaking. The pressure of Gandalf's hand on her shoulder made her pause, lifting her head and blinking tears of mirth from her eyes. She began to question the wizard, but halted at the intense look on his face. Listening, she caught the low humming from the next room.

Seconds later, the song began.

"_Far over the Misty Mountains cold_

_To dungeons deep and caverns old  
We must away ere break of day  
To find out long-forgotten gold." _

One by one, the dwarves joined Thorin, the song resounding deep in the spaces between Amrûn's ribs.

"_The pines were roaring on the height  
The winds were moaning in the night  
The fire was red, it flaming spread_

_The trees like torches, blazed with light." _

There was a familiar nostalgic quality that brought back memories of home; hunting kine with her mother and aunts, sparring with her brother and father, climbing to the top of the wall to look out over the vast Rhunish desert and sprinting away before the guards could catch her. She had never realized how much she had loved Haza until she had left, and it was far too late for her to return now. The longing for home was familiar to Amrûn; how could she deny them aid, when for too long that same ache had resided in her?

"I ought to go back to the inn if I hope for any sleep tonight, Gandalf," she said. Her voice seemed oddly small and weak in the silence after the song. She stood creakily, wincing as the movement pulled at charred and broken skin and slipped out, ducking briefly into the bedroom where Bilbo sat, deep in thought. "Mr. Baggins?" She called, the hobbit jumping a little and whirling around. "I'll be going now. I thank you for your hospitality."

Without another word, she made her way into the foyer, tugging her mask over her face. She felt more than heard the footsteps behind her.

"Leaving so soon?"

The dwarf prince's voice was low and even, and when she looked back his expression was unreadable.

"My things are at the inn. I need to go," she said briskly, pulling on her cloak in a swirl of red fabric.

"You are coming with us, aren't you lass?" Bofur asked, peeking around Thorin. Was it just her, or was there a note of anxiety in his voice?

"Yes, of course. I'll be meeting you in the morning," she responded, though the remark seemed addressed more toward Thorin than Bofur. "Master Dori-"the addressed dwarf, lurking near the back of the group with Ori, started. "-thank you for the tea. It was delicious."

With that said Amrûn tugged her hood over her head and darted out into the cool spring night, a red phantom that disappeared as suddenly as she came.


End file.
